Deathtales
by AgentOfAngst
Summary: A little story to explore character reactions if the main characters were to die in a nice one at a time AU style. Read A/N.
1. Huey

**Deathtales is exactly what it sounds like. It's about death. It's One, Two except the reason that there are only two triplets is that one of them died. We're obviously going to go through all of the triplets one at a time, starting with Huey, we might not do anyone else in the family, and I might not write Webby's reactions to the deaths because... Because I don't write Webby, that much, I guess? In this chapter, I don't write much about Scrooge either. It all just depends. **

**I hope you enjoy the angst, but if you don't, that's okay. It was fun to write.**

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Chapter 1- Huey

You never expect it'll happen to anyone, certainly not a child, certainly not your brother, your slightly older brother. Dewey and Louie were in shock. No one ever expected it. Everyone was stuck in the stages of grief and it was becoming abundantly clear that it wasn't a tracklist coming one after another and then stopping. It was more like an orchestra, with each stage of grief playing at once, so loud that no one could think. Huey would have appreciated that observation and metaphor. But thinking about what Huey would've appreciated only made the cacophony worse.

No one expected it. He was just a little kid when someone had taken it too far. When solving mysteries and rewriting history had stopped being a game. There were a lot of people who hated Scrooge McDuck. There were a lot of people who hated his family. But Ducks don't back down, right? After you've saved earth from aliens you might think you can do anything, face anyone. That was how Hubert Duck ended up facing down the barrel of a gun.

Every time he closed his eyes Louie saw his brother's feathers stained with blood, brains spilling from the hole put in Huey's head. Huey had always been the smartest one but that was desecrated now, spilled onto the concrete because someone had thought he was too smart. Louie stopped sleeping but he still spent most of his time in bed, lying now on Huey's bunk at the very top, holding onto Huey's sheets and pillows, doing his best not to fall asleep and dream of his brother in heartbreaking detail. Leaving this small oasis, this place where he could imagine that Huey was alive, terrified him. For the first few days, people tried to get him out of bed. For the first few days whenever someone asked he wondered how hard he'd have to fall to join Huey. Eventually, people stopped expecting him to move, after all, they had their own grief to bear.

If anyone asked, which they wouldn't dare, Dewey was "coping" better. Dewey was out of bed at least. Dewey would even leave the house, something that some of the adults didn't necessarily feel right doing. He'd started wearing Huey's hat and carrying around the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. Huey had so many notes in the back, and Dewey would look through them and not cry. After Huey's death, after the first day alone, Dewey hadn't cried. He'd cried when he happened and now, while his family openly mourned, he was restrained. He added an entry to the back of the guidebook. How to Mourn: Don't. He knew Huey was gone. Of course Huey was gone. But inside of him were two wolves. The first wolf snarled a need for revenge. The second wolf insisted that Huey wasn't dead, only missing and that Dewey needed to find him. So Dewey would take to the streets, be gone for hours at a time, sometimes not coming home at night and never sleeping in the room where his older brother was supposed to be.

Louie and Dewey didn't talk. Well neither of them really talked at all, not finding anything they particularly needed to say to anyone. Though Dewey never said it he guessed Louie wished that Dewey had died instead of Huey. Louie wouldn't say it to anyone, but he believed the world would be a much brighter place if they could see red instead of green, and he imagined his only brother felt the same. Something about that sentiment made it painful to breathe, so the two brothers went on trying not to think what they both thought they knew, that the world would've been better if one of them had died in Huey's stead.

Della was going insane. She wanted terribly to be able to mother her boys right now, to sweep Dewey and Louie into her arms in the wake of the tragedy, to cry with them and tell them it would be okay again eventually. But Dewey wasn't crying and Louie was never going to believe things could be okay. So she felt terribly isolated, angry at the world that took her son away, angry that the family that remained had been irreparably damaged. She wanted to get revenge on the person that killed her son, but she'd been talked down after the funeral, only quietly fuming now as she spun, alone, in a circle, trying to figure out which child to reach out to, her cries falling on deaf ears whenever she tried. She would keep trying, she would keep trying. But it felt so much like she'd lost more than one child that day.

You can't talk down Donald Duck. He had nothing productive to funnel his anger into, certainly not Dewey and Louie, who fell dangerously on opposite ends of the grieving spectrum. So he was hunting a killer. He refused to stop or slow down. Like Dewey, he spent most of his time out of the house. Sometimes their paths crossed, and Donald would tell Dewey to go home. Sometimes Dewey went home, Donald didn't check. In the morning he would feel sick with wondering. What if something happened to Dewey? But he didn't know how to help his boys. He didn't know how to help anyone. He hadn't been able to save Huey, he couldn't save Dewey and Louie as they spiraled out of control. He couldn't save his sister. They were all falling and failing.

Scrooge wasn't a stranger to the spiral. He had spiraled when Della had disappeared and when Donald had cut him out of his life. But this was the hardest thing. Huey had been 11-years-old. Scrooge forced himself out into the world, forced himself to tend to his business as best as he could, forced himself to check in on his family. But it all seemed meaningless. He was supposed to be unstoppable, he'd let him believe once more that his family was as well. He seemed to be coping but his life was without purpose, without adventure or joy. He wore a mask and pretended to be okay. But he was not. Maybe one day he would be again. Maybe one day he would find purpose again.

Donald and Dewey were asleep on opposite ends of the couch the day the Duck family started to heal. Della had barged into her sons' room, desperate to reach out to one of them, desperate to be reminded of what remained and remind them in turn. Huey's life had been cut off too soon, there would always be a hole in their hearts missing him. But she would not let herself watch her sons' lives deteriorate.

"Louie! Louie, please, get out of bed. We haven't seen you in forever."

"I don't feel good," Louie mumbled, gripping Huey's sheets, resisting letting go. If he let go, Huey would be gone for good.

"I know sweetheart, I know. Everyone is grieving right now. Please join us?"

"I want to join him," Louie said quietly, and Della's heart broke.

"Louie, don't say that… Things are going to be okay again, I promise."

"You can't promise that you don't know…" Louie turned to look at her now, staring at her, questioning why she thought anything would ever be okay again.

"Face each new sun with eyes clear and true, unafraid of the unknown, because I face it all with you…" Della sang softly, trying to offer Louie any comfort and strength she had left. Louie slowly let go of Huey's sheets and blankets and allowed himself to fall off the edge of the bunk, choosing pain over comfort.

"Louie!" Della shouted out in horror as Louie hit the floor, not able to catch him in time. She scooped him up and cradled him close as he groaned and tears filled his eyes.

"Oh baby, how bad does it hurt? Are you okay? You'll be okay…" She was panicking, the image of her oldest boy sprawled out on the concrete, blood gushing from his head filled her own and she held Louie close, so scared of losing him too.

"I-I'm s-sorry…" Louie sobbed into her shirt.

"No, it's okay baby, you didn't mean to fall…"

"Yes, I did… It should have been me… It always should have been me… Huey was going to be important and I'm just a fraud..." Neither of them heard the footsteps, Donald and Dewey alerted to the commotion by Della's scream. Donald put a hand on Dewey's shoulder as they watched Louie and Della share a breakdown.

"No… No Louie. No one should have died but losing you as well won't change what happened. We all love you and we don't want you beating yourself up over who lives and dies. We don't control that, baby. We can't control that. We can only honor Huey's memory and keep living."

"Living is too hard," Louie sobbed, crying into her jacket. Once more, Della's heart fractured into enough pieces to completely fill the money bin.

"I know it's hard right now. That's why we're all here for you." She saw her brother and son in the doorway and waved them in. Dewey ran over, tears stinging his eyes, joining the hug. He hadn't cried since the funeral. The hat fell off of his head when he ran, and when Della knelt down next to him he hugged his brother.

"Louie… Do you really think it should've been you?" Dewey asked over his own sobs.

"I do…"

"I thought that too…" Dewey didn't feel as ashamed or alone anymore. Louie wrapped his arms around Dewey and Della wrapped her arms around both of them.

"It's okay to feel that way," Donald finally spoke, "I felt that way when Della disappeared. But we have to keep living. To honor him and carry on his legacy." It hurt to say. It hurt to talk about carrying on the legacy of a dead 11-year-old. But loss was always going to be painful, and Donald had learned once before to turn the pain into motivation. He knelt to join the hug and it wasn't long before they were all crying at once on the bedroom floor, bearing this pain together.

At one point, Louie and Dewey, exhausted from emotion, fell asleep and Della and Donald tucked them into bed. Then Della climbed up to the top bunk and made the bed, setting Huey's hat on the pillow.

"They're going to be okay," she whispered, half to herself and half to Donald.

"So are we," Donald said, putting a hand on Della's shoulder. Louie's sentiment, that it was too hard to live, rang true for all of them. This shared, cathartic breakdown hadn't healed all wounds and time wouldn't either. They would always hurt and living would always be hard. But hard wasn't impossible, and Ducks don't back down.


	2. Dewey

**I was inspired to write this story, specifically this chapter, by an awesome story called Time Flies (Back) When You're (Not) Having Fun by Akozu Heiwa. Everyone should read it, I love it so much. **

**I once again failed in writing Scrooge and Webby, but I have the solution for that, too! If you're looking for some good characterization of Scrooge and Webby and Duckworth you've got to check out The Phantom of McDuck Manor by Lena de Strange, which is a brand new super fluffy story with a surprising, delicious ounce of angst.**

**I genuinely think this chapter is sadder than the first one, maybe I'm wrong. I'm working really hard to make these chapters and these deaths different. So far I've planned out seven chapters for this story, but I'll explain that more next chapter.**

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter 2- Dewey

You never expect it to happen, and when it does you're crippled by wondering why. You can't help thinking that you should have done something, should have caught him when he fell. Della was still in shock, still in terrible, painful denial, even though she'd been the one to agree.

They had been on an adventure, scaling new heights as a family, searching for treasure, of course. That had been her first mistake, she'd agreed to let the kids go, even though she knew it would be dangerous. She'd never thought it would be too much. Everyone had wanted a break except for Dewey. Dewey had begged her to go on ahead and she'd agreed. Dewey had gotten his break anyway, every bone in his body. When the landslide started, her excitable, adventurous middle son had gotten swept up in it. He alone had gone on ahead, so he alone was crushed by the rubble and the snow. He was still alive when they got him out, alive but unresponsive when the emergency helicopter arrived. Alive but slowly shutting down when they got him to the hospital. Alive but gone when the doctors told Della that he would never wake up. Alive but not when they asked her if she wanted to take him off life support. And she agreed.

She was still sitting in the hospital waiting room long after the time of death, she hadn't cried yet but her spirit was broken. His last words rang in her mind. She'd said he could go on ahead and he'd looked back, for just a second, calling out, "Thanks, mom!"

She'd just pulled the plug, she'd just ended his life, "Thanks, mom!"

There was no way she could go home that night. Not to face what remained when this was all her fault. All her fault for agreeing. She kept picturing his body, crushed and mangled by nature.

"Thanks, mom!"

Donald had been angry at first. He'd gone home with Huey and Louie, attempting to comfort them and convince them that everything would be okay. Louie was still crying, quieter than when he'd started. Huey couldn't stop fiddling with his hat, muttering apologies for something that he wasn't remotely at fault for. When Della had called, not crying but sounding painfully close, to explain her decision, Donald had been righteously angry. Just for a few seconds, he was overcome with anger. It shouldn't have been her choice to make, it should have been Dewey's. But the longer he thought about it the more he understood that this was the choice that Dewey would have made. Della had been forced to see the life crushed out of her little boy. Forced to hear that a machine was the only thing keeping him alive. And someone as vibrant and full of life as Dewey wouldn't want their life to be lived by a machine. There was silence on both ends of the phone call before Donald hung up. His heart broke with a truth too hard to bear.

"Is Dewey okay?" Louie asked. Donald could barely keep himself from breaking down as he glanced at his youngest nephew.

"Everything is going to be okay," Donald said quietly, holding his boys close while Huey continued to whisper apologies. Donald repeated the lie until they were in bed, then he left to find his sister.

The waiting room seemed very dark to both of them. It was actually well lit with fluorescents and far from being quiet and empty, but Donald and Della sat in solitary silence. Occasionally, one of them would glance at the other. For about an hour they just sat in silence, like they were waiting for the doctor to come out and say that they'd been wrong about Dewey. Or perhaps they were just waiting to have the strength to talk to each other. Donald didn't know how to express his grief, his anger, or his forgiveness. Della didn't know how to express her guilt, her pain, or her delusions. Finally, Donald landed on something he could say without a lump forming in his throat.

"They need you at home."

"Have you told them yet?" Did they know that she'd killed him?

"I couldn't do it."

"Then we'll do it together," Della said, her voice cracking from shame. They walked out of the waiting room, silence so close and so easy to hold. Donald had a lot he wanted to say but the words vanished on his tongue. Della wanted to explain how sorry she was but her brain and her mouth were disconnected. More than anything, she wanted to cry. She hadn't cried yet.

"The boys are in bed," Donald said as they got in his car, "We'll tell them tomorrow."

But the boys were not in bed when Della and Donald made it back to the house. Huey and Louie had perched by the door, half asleep and clinging to each other. In their hearts, they had grieved the loss of their brother already because in their hearts they knew. But when the door opened, Louie startled awake, staring up at Donald and Della expectantly, waiting for good news.

"Is Dewey going to be okay?" Huey asked, holding onto his brother to keep them both from falling. They needed to hear that everything was going to be okay. Della lowered herself to meet them in a hug that they readily fell into. She held them close for as long as she could until she had to tell them the truth.

"Dewey didn't make it, I'm so sorry…"

"No, you're lying, Uncle Donald said that he'd be okay!" Louie struggled against the embrace.

"Louie," Donald said gently, "I'm so sorry. We're not lying to you right now."

"Then you were lying before," Huey inferred, "when you said he'd be okay and when you said it wasn't my fault!" Denial, anger, and sadness mixed and melted, bubbling like lava about to explode. Both boys had pulled away now, not even reaching for each other.

"Huey, it wasn't your fault, baby… I know you feel so grown up all the time and carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but sometimes things happen," Della said gently, reaching for him. Huey took a step back.

"No, there has to be someone to blame," Huey insisted. Della opened her mouth.

"Della, don't. It's too soon," Donald warned, but nothing could stop Della Duck.

"If you need someone to blame, Huey, blame me. Dewey would have lived the rest of his life in a coma but I chose to take him off life support.

Tears stung Louie's eyes, "No…"

"I'm sorry," Della said quietly, reaching to hold them. Louie jerked away.

"No, no, no no! Don't touch me!"

"You killed him!" Huey accused, blame falling off of his shoulders and latching onto her. Della's heart broke at the words she already felt and she glanced away.

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Donald defended her, though he knew how Huey was feeling, "She had to make an incredibly hard choice tonight. We're all mourning, Huey."

"If it was such a hard choice then she shouldn't have made it tonight! People do dumb stuff when they're emotionally over-stimulated!" In the midst of the shouting match, none of them saw Louie leave. Della was the first to notice.

"Where's Louie?!" She spun frantically, searching for her little boy.

"Where is he?! She'd been holding off a breakdown all evening, now it burst forth. They tore the house apart, searching before they moved outside.

Huey was furious, his burning temper keeping him warm as they headed into the chilly night. They had killed Dewey. They had killed Dewey and driven Louie away. Huey felt so angry and so unbelievably alone.

Della had started to cry. Sobs entered her screams as she called out for her son, "Louie, please! Louie, I'm so sorry! Please come home!"

Donald's worry outweighed his compassion, "Shut up!" He hissed at his sister, "Listen. We should be able to hear him." They went quiet for a few minutes, wandering through Scrooge's property. It became more like a labyrinth as they moved in the dark, listening for Louie.

"What if he's gone?" Della finally ventured. Donald refused to answer.

Huey did not, "If Louie disappears, so will I." He could hardly imagine being one of two. If he was alone he wouldn't make it.

"We're going to find Louie," Donald snapped, and they pushed forward in silence.

Donald had been right about being able to hear Louie when they got close. Louie lay, curled up on his side in the dirt, sobbing into his hood. Louie basically only put his hood up when he was at his lowest points. Della, Donald, and Huey exchanged a look, trying to decide which one of them was the best ambassador to reach Louie. Finally, Huey stepped forward, falling down on his knees next to Louie and putting a hand on his shoulder. Louie felt cold.

"Louie?" Huey's voice failed as he whispered, all the things he could have said feeling wrong in this time and space. So he could have said feeling wrong in this space and time. So he just doubled over and joined his brother in sobs. They clung to each other, not noticing Della and Donald approach.

"Boys, you don't have to forgive me just yet, you can take all the time you need to grieve, alone or together. But I need you to know that we care about both of you, we love you, and we're always going to take care of you," Della said, her eyes red from her own sobs. She offered her arms but understood if they weren't ready to trust her again.

"I don't know that you won't let me fall," Louie said quietly. Della's heart ached.

"As long as I am able, I won't let go." Della wanted to smother them in love and protection, giving them space after causing Dewey's death would be incredibly hard.

Louie glanced at his brother, still trembling and warm from hurt and anger. Then, leaving his brother, he walked over to her in silence, not stating forgiveness or trust, simply tired and cold and able to recognize that they all had lost Dewey. He rested his head against her and she hugged him.

"I'm so sorry, Louie."

"I've heard enough apologies tonight. Apologies won't bring Dewey back," Louie looked down at his feet, then over at Huey. He held out his hand to his older brother, "But that's okay because Dewey wouldn't have wanted death without dying."

Huey gravitated towards his brother, grabbing on to Louie's hand. He didn't look at Della. He couldn't yet. But there was some truth to Louie's words. Dewey would rather live on in their memories than live the rest of his life in a mechanical coffin. It just didn't make that an easier pill to swallow. Forgiveness could come later, healing could come later. Right now they would just go home and keep Dewey alive the way he would have agreed to.


	3. Louie

**I really wanted to make each of their deaths distinct and different. I also, initially, wanted to make their deaths significant to their character, which is why Huey got shot for being too smart and Dewey died on an adventure. But what to do for Louie? I didn't want his death to be brought about by his scheming simply because I thought that it would be too similar to Huey's death.**

**I had another idea, inspired by another fanfic fave of mine, Time by darknessarrives165. Their story helped me figure out the way _I_ write Louie. However I didn't want to go too far for this story, I can elicit emotions without relying on the darkest of themes, just yet. So I chose sickness because sickness can happen to anyone, regardless of status or worth or any discernment. But it's worth mentioning that I did exactly zero research so don't try to peg this to any real disease. **

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Chapter 3- Louie

You never expect it to happen. Then the waiting becomes the hardest part. Huey and Dewey wouldn't leave Louie's side when he started getting sick. Louie could milk a sick day for all it was worth, but when the diagnosis became terminal he sobered up real quick, no longer asking for much.

The not asking drove them insane. Louie was supposed to want things and, in his time of pain and sadness being able to provide for him gave them all a little bit of comfort. But then Louie stopped asking for things. What was the point? All the money in the world wasn't going to save him now. His brothers and mom and Uncle Donald said that they wanted to make him more comfortable but there wasn't anything they could really do.

That didn't stop them from trying. Every time Louie doubled over, coughing up his lungs, Huey would hurry to get him some water. And daily Della would beg and argue with Louie, trying to figure out what he could keep down. There wasn't much. It wasn't long before they all realized that the best thing they could do for him was be there. That was another big difference about this version of Louie, he didn't push anyone away anymore. In fact, the more family you could cram into his little hospital room, the better, though the air sometimes became hard to breathe, and they had to put him back on a ventilator.

Della felt sick herself, watching a machine breathe for her boy, watching the light die from his clever eyes. He had started wearing his glasses more, something he had used to really hate. He didn't argue much either. Della had never thought that she would miss arguing with him over anything that wasn't a pill or a dietician suggested meal/meal supplement. Her new life revolved around this little room with its machines and bunched up plastic chairs and inadequate sunlight. She fiddled mercilessly with the curtains and the blinds, trying to get more sun into the room, trying to get more of the world into the room. Trying to get more of Louie into the world. He couldn't very well leave the room, the last ventures outside had been painful for all of them and it had soon become easier to leave him inside. But the world was waiting for her brilliant little boy, and she couldn't give it to him. So she fussed a little harder with the blinds and argued a little more when he wouldn't or couldn't eat. Because the alternative was even worse.

Donald got in a lot more fights with a lot more people when Louie got sick. He was angry all the time, and no one was safe. He fought with his sister, with Scrooge, even with Huey and Dewey. His fights with them were the worst ones because they had every right to be angry. He held his shame and anger close to his chest but he buried his fear much further, refusing to admit how hard it was for him to go see Louie. He didn't go every day, though he started each morning saying he would. Sometimes his nephews yelled at him for it, and he'd scream back, unable to keep tears from streaming down his face while he admitted how much he had failed, failed to save Louie, failed to be there for Louie when he needed him the most, failed to be able to do anything to make Louie happy. On the days he did see Louie he pretended to be okay, but the pretending was worse than the breakdowns because at least when he was breaking down he couldn't see Louie shutting down.

Huey and Dewey didn't like seeing it much either, but what were they supposed to do? Leave their brother alone in a room that seemed much too cold for a boy who didn't seem to be able to get warm? They couldn't do that. They tried to make the days about him, tried to give Louie all he wanted but he hadn't been wanting anything lately, so Dewey had to make stuff up. He invented ways to make Louie happier. He came up with the list.

They'd called it the bucket list at first, but the bucket list emphasized the fatality of the situation, and so they'd tossed that out pretty quickly. Instead, they called it Louie's hit list. A condensed list of the biggest schemes Louie had wanted to pull but hadn't been able to. Joyrides, petty thievery, and the big one cleaning out Doofus Drake. They'd pick a scheme, let Louie do all the planning, and try to run it. Then Huey and Dewey would come back with the results and whenever they were able to, the loot. It seemed to be Louie's favorite part of any given day. He smiled a lot more, laughed when it didn't hurt to, there seemed to be a little light in his eyes like he was back in the world he so desperately missed.

They'd been planning the big one for weeks. They were straightening the details out for it when Louie hit them out of nowhere with something.

"I have money set aside," Louie said.

"For the scheme?" Dewey asked, too focused on trying to turn Louie's detailed plan into the actual steps he and Huey were going to run tomorrow.

"No, for business school." Dewey's eyes widened and he glanced down before they could well up with tears.

"Louie, it's okay-" Huey interjected, not wanting to think of the implications of that statement. Louie didn't let it go though.

"Mom and I already talked about it. You guys have to use it for school, okay?"

"L-L-Louie…" Dewey croaked, tears dripping down his face, hating that his brother wouldn't get to go to business school like he had always wanted. Louie put a hand on his shoulder, slow, quiet comfort.

"We will," Huey said, trying to remain stoic, breaking down on the inside. Louie glanced between them, weak eyes seeing right through them, knowing that both of them were hurting.

Louie forced a smile, "I want you guys to live your dreams, not just mine."

Huey nodded, "But we still have a few of yours to make true too. Let's get back to work."

Della sat in a room that would have been empty if it weren't for Louie's slow breaths and slow heartbeat. Huey and Dewey were off living so that Louie could live vicariously, and Della had gotten up to argue with the blinds every few minutes because even Louie wasn't arguing right now. At one point she couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going to get your Uncle. He needs to spend more time with you." Louie nodded to show that he understood, but he'd been quiet all day. He heard arguing outside before Uncle Donald appeared to squirm in a plastic chair.

"It's okay," Louie said quietly, seeing the guilt etched on his uncle's face, "you don't have to stay if it hurts. It's not your fault if you leave. It's not your fault if I do."

Donald's head snapped up in surprise and he stammered out a reply, "Y-you sound so calm." Louie nodded.

"I've had a few months to think." He turned and coughed, and Donald winced.

"I just… I'm sorry. I couldn't spend time with you because…"

"Because you couldn't face the looming shadows." Donald nodded again.

"H-how are you this okay about it…?"

Louie couldn't answer aloud, chest and throat aching from coughs, so he pulled out his scheme notebook one last time, jotting down the words Donald had been afraid to acknowledge. I'm dying. It's not okay, but it's real. We don't have to be okay about it, but we do have to be real about it.

Donald put his head down and sobbed, not ready for this to be real.

"It's okay to hurt," Louie whispered, mustering enough strength to say that much, "I still love you." Della stood in the doorway and rushed to his side when Louie started flatlining. She screamed for a doctor, screamed for a minute more time that she could not have. She screamed for mercy, for life, she screamed and sobbed and held him in her arms as his heart failed and hers broke. The blinds fell closed on their own accord and the whole world fell dark as her little boy lost his fight with reality. Donald sobbed as well, making no move to comfort Della, there were no words that he could offer her.

Huey and Dewey had just pulled off the biggest heist of the century. They were so excited to tell Louie about everything they had scored and all their close calls, bursting into the room and not seeing Louie anywhere. They stopped dead in their tracks.

"W-where is he?" Dewey demanded, looking around. His mom and Uncle Donald's face were streaked with tears. Huey put a hand on Dewey's shoulder, putting all the pieces together. Before anyone could respond Dewey scrambled over to the bed as if looking to find him sunken into the sheets.

"Louie lost his fight today," Della said, moving so she could reach out and hold both boys. Dewey burst into tears in her arms before twirling around once more to face his uncle.

"You were here? You were here when it happened?" Donald nodded, a lump forming in his throat.

"You abandoned him! How did you get to be here and I… And I…" Before he broke down into sobs again. Della held Huey and Dewey close.

"It's not fair!" Dewey sobbed, gripping her jacket as he sobbed into it, Huey's breakdown was more subdued but no less painful.

"No," Della agreed, "it isn't."

"Did he say anything?" Huey asked, staring down at the empty sheets.

Donald nodded, "his last words were, 'It's okay to hurt, I still love you.'" Now Huey began to cry, Della and Donald holding them close. There was nothing else they could do but mourn. They hadn't been able to do anything else when Louie was alive, either.

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**I'm sure some of you are thinking that that was a bit of an abrupt ending and some of you are wondering what happens next. Well, I'm excited to tell you that chapter 4 will be a conclusion to this chapter and the chapters that came before, detailing a bit of closure for the characters as they grow and move forward. Chapters 5 and 6 will feature Donald and Della respectively and chapter 7 will be closure for those two. That is currently where I expect the story to conclude. **


	4. Triplet Closure

**I am OBSESSED with the comments I've been getting about updating Deathtales. I would recommend not commenting on other people's stories and art asking when they're going to update or post new stuff because I'd imagine that that annoys some people, but it doesn't annoy me! I'm really happy that someone liked this story enough to mention it after reading my other stuff.**

**Also, I'm so happy that people are reading my other stuff. Right now I'm not exactly sure what I'm working towards, Ducktales-wise, except for a Lena fic that I will eventually write for someone on Tumblr. I know I have a couple of chaptered fics that I need to update, most of which I started this year. Apologies to Dewey and the turtles, Canon Eyes, and Beautiful Days in Duckburg. **

**There will be Holiday fics coming this year! Maybe they will be themed around a certain chicken and his robot son? Who knows! Who knows indeed...**

**Thank you for reading and reviewing, feel free to give me recommendations! **

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Chapter 4- Triplet Closure

Louie sat on the floor of his room, knees pulled up to his chest. He wasn't crying, just holding himself and rocking a little. He'd done his best, to get back in the world after his oldest brother's death, but he still had a hard time leaving the safety of his home. The furthest he'd gone was to the back where the houseboat sat. It was safe there. He didn't know how much else was safe.

Dewey came in, squatting next to him.

"Hey, we're about to leave, Louie…"

"I've decided not to go."

"We're not going to leave you here. What's wrong? It's a simple day trip, we're just going hiking…"

"Yeah, but…"

"I get it, Louie. It feels wrong to go on like this after what happened to Huey. I get it." Dewey rested a hand on Louie's shoulder.

"The world…" Louie mumbled, "it's not a good place without Huey."

"And it would be so much worse of a place without you, Louie. Please come with us?"

"Why does it have to be today? Today doesn't work so good for me."

"Louie, it took you weeks to leave the room. I know today doesn't feel like the right time but if you wait for it to feel right you'll never leave… Please? We want to spend time with you."

Louie sighed and Dewey stood, holding out his hand to him. Soon, Louie was standing, holding onto his brother's hand. He was nervous to get back into the world, but he would take baby steps until he was comfortable living again.

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"I think Dewey really would have liked this," Huey said, "A whole celebration all about him. Dewey lived life to its fullest, he didn't like to be still, he didn't like to be bored. He always wanted to try something new, and show the world exactly what he was made of. Dewey was one of the best people I knew. Every day I'll miss his energy and his zeal for life. I'll miss his goofiness and the way he was always pulling us into an adventure. I think it's a real shame that there are people who didn't get to know him. But all of us who did were very lucky."

Huey turned to the casket, "We're always going to miss you, Dewey. You'll never be forgotten."

Louie got up after his brother, feeling nervous and sick. He didn't want to talk about his dead brother, this funeral made things even more real, and now he had to address it.

"That'll be hard to follow, and, uh, so was Dewey. Dewey was dazzling, he was the center of attention because he worked hard to be. He didn't just give up on things after a week. I think things meant more to Dewey, he had this love of life that can't be replicated. I was jealous of him and proud of him and I'll miss him for the rest of my life. Dewey was the center of attention and he was, and always will be, the center of our hearts."

Getting up and speaking didn't make it any easier, but it was nice to dwell on the middle for a change, instead of reliving the end.

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"I have a lot of people to thank for this," Huey said, looking out over the sea of faces in his graduating class as he gave his valedictorian speech.

"For one thing, I have my brother Dewey to thank, who has always been there for me. I have my mom and my uncles who have tirelessly supported me, but most of all, I have my brother Louie to thank. I know that I would have ended up in a good college and graduated with good grades if it weren't for him, but he still inspired me every day when I was here. He's inspired me every day since he passed. We were young then, and he had money he'd earned set aside for business school. When he got sick he told Dewey and I that he wanted us to have it so that we could live our dreams. Losing Louie felt like the end of the world, it still hurts to think about, but I am so grateful that he saw something in us that he believed in and wanted to invest in. Standing before you today, I can only hope that I live up to what he saw in us. Louie, wherever you are now, we're never going to forget you, and we will make you proud." His speech continued, linking it back to the graduating class, but this wasn't really for them, it was all for Louie.

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**Next up? The Duck Twins face death! What would happen if the famous Donald Duck were to die?**


End file.
